Legendary--A Caraval Novel

Humans were selfish creatures. The stars had witnessed it again, and again, and again.

But perhaps love was an otherworldly entity like Death.

“No, you’re being kind. You’re holding me all close and saying personal things. Do you love me now?”

“Did you just remember how much you don’t like me?” he asked.
“I never forgot. I was thinking of the first time we met. Did you know who I was?”
“No.”
“So, you’re just that charming to everyone you meet?”

“This relationship isn’t real,” Tella groaned. “How could I be jealous?”
“Maybe you’re wishing it was real.”

“What are you trying to find, Donatella? Are you searching for some good in me? You’ll never see it, because it doesn’t exist.”

She wasn’t afraid of danger, though she preferred it in the form of swaggering young men.

From the street vendors’ deep-fried confections dusted with crushed violets and sugar to the bejeweled dresses worn by the women and the shining weapon-belts ornamenting the men. Only the swords on the belts did not look real, and neither did the women’s jewels.

It seemed she’d run right into the middle of a small festival made of park-plays, or some sort of fair to celebrate the empress’s upcoming birthday—perhaps for all of the Valendans not participating in Caraval. Curious gazes were moving in her direction. But Tella doubted anyone would mistake her for one of the performers. Unless these particular plays involved a female sacrifice, Tella was dressed entirely wrong. The women here were all covered up by bell-sleeved gowns with flowing skirts, while Tella had naked legs and exposed arms. Suddenly she was freezing. Now that she’d stopped, fatigue hit her like a wave of ice, leaving her shaken and out of breath, without a properly working heart to warm her up.

Massive wings perched atop the temple’s domed roof, glowing as bright as fresh flames, and yet for all their magnificence, no one lingered outside of the temple’s great entrance. Perhaps that’s why there were so many statues littering its wide moonstone steps, giving the impression of visitors and life. Though anyone who looked at these sculptures up close would never have mistaken them for humans.

You’re not going to die. We’ll find someone to get you healed.” Dante started down a set of aged stone steps edged by a massive sculpture of robed men with wings, all holding a coffin above their heads.

Tella might have snorted a laugh; it seemed everywhere she went death and doom were determined to follow.

“I lied to you in the dress shop,” Tella said. “You were right about Jacks.…” She forced her eyes open once again. Her head was spin